The Lost Moment
He lingered at the entrance to the small cafe, transfixed by the grey-blue chair. She’d been sitting there the last time he’d seen her. Dark hair. Grey eyes. Slim neck. Long legs.
His heart jumped at the memory, the feel of her hand in his. They’d spent so many magical days together, exploring the nooks and crannies of the city. Picnics on the Seine. Crying at Notre Dame. Sneaking up the Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. The Pere Lachaise Cemetery, searching for the distant possibility of ancestors..
They’d met in a quaint little town in the west of France, each reaching for the same item in the market. Had ended up laughing and having dinner. A year later they married. Three children, a dog, and several houses later, retiring, looking forward to peaceful days and romantic nights.
With a sigh, he moved on. If only he’d had the courage to talk to her that first day.